Conversing
by crescendoesque
Summary: Minerva can't grasp such ideas. No pairings.


Minerva McGonagall sits in her room, head in hands. Her body is taut; she is obviously disturbed. One who looks into her face will immediately be shocked to see the untidy bun, swollen eyes and thoroughly bitten lip. There's blood on the handkerchief, which had been used to blot at her lips. Minerva hasn't the energy or the will to grasp her wand, let alone use a spell. It's possible that she's just letting laziness getting the best of her, but she lets that thought fly from her- it's just untrue. Minerva leans back, when a knock at the door is heard.

"Minerva? It's Remus. Are you there?" Remus. Minerva's thoughts wander to his old Marauder days. Time has fled from an old woman's grasp. He was young, intelligent, only half the terrible prankster…And now, now he has become part of the Order of the Phoenix. She can't seem to grasp such an idea. But the worst thing is: Just like Dumbledore he has the uncanny ability to see when a person is disturbed. Or maybe she's just too readable.

"Minerva?" The voice seems taunting, calling her name. It seems to be telling her that she's being silly to grieve; why is she in there anyway? Air fills her lungs as she lets a sigh of air in.

"Yes, yes, Remus. I'm here. Won't you come in?" Curse her manners. Why can't she just tell him to leave? He steps in quickly and surprises her. But as she brings a fake and artificial smile to her cold lips, she knows that she should have realized that time to fix herself up was short. The voice had come from right outside the door, after all. Now, however, his quickness has eliminated all hope of cleaning herself up, even just a bit. He smiles calmly at her.

"What's wrong, Minerva?"

"Honestly, Remus, nothing. I mean...No. Nothing." Really, it's quite idiotic that this conversation is taking place. He _knows _that Dumbledore was a hand to hold in the darkness, sometimes even a candle. And he knows that Dumbledore is dead, to put it bluntly.

"Come now. I know you well enough to tell when you're upset."

In the span of a moment the man conjures up a chair. And in the span of a moment Minerva McGonagall feels tears in her eyes again. It is a simple enough action, something any ordinary wizard did all the time. She's done too. But the flick of the wand is too casual, and prompts too many memories.

"Minerva. There are tears in your eyes. Won't you tell me why?" Later she will realize that it is strange that her own student is speaking to her like a friend and mentor.

"Why must you be so much like…like him?" Minerva asks, suddenly angry, and unable to rein in her infamous Scottish temper. Remus' eyes open wide, his shock evident.

"What are you talking about? _Who_ are you talking about?"

"Who," she asks in a low and dangerous voice, "Who? Who would you think?"

"You couldn't possibly mean…?"  
"Of course," she answers him spitefully, "Who else?"

"Gods, I don't know…Severus…"

At this moment, Minerva's eyes turn fiery, but her face pales. She wrings her hands together, her fingers lock and unlock. The cat side of her escapes and her nails scratch at the back of her hands when close enough to touch the skin. Minerva bites her lip again, though not hard enough to reopen the cuts.

Remus knows that he has made a mistake; it's obvious. Even he feels slightly agitated by the name. He's come to terms with this of course, it's his nature. And anyway, he hasn't ever trusted Severus Snape. His eyes travel to Minerva's hands, ever in motion. But as he stares, he sees the other movement: the shaking. Remus is unsure of the reason. Anger? Or perhaps fear. In any case, he has the sudden urge to grasp her hands and let his strength into her, just as he's done with other friends.

Minerva jerks away from the desk before he can make any move, her blazing eyes now staring holes into the walls.

"Severus, you tell me! I don't even want to think about…him."

Remus stands and walks to her side.

"Albus…trusted him. Or so I thought. But now I'm not sure, Remus. I'm not sure. Perhaps the trust was just…or maybe Albus was just a fool. An innocent fool."

"No, Minerva, never a fool. Not Albus."

Minerva covers her face with her hands, but does not cry. It is more of a show of exasperation and pain.

"You're upset," he states thoughtfully. This brings her from the shelter of her hands and she stares into his eyes. Remus flinches first, though if he knows that when he is ready to deal with her and her steamed gazes, he can hold his own. After all, he's seen this look many times in his life.

Minerva's voice falls from her throat hoarsely. A small laugh escapes her lips, and Remus finally sees the hidden, emotion side of Minerva McGonagall. She needs to say everything now. It's like a waterfall, tumbling from the rocks and unable to stop, and needing to pour down and be seen and heard.

"Aren't we all? Remus, if you're not then it's just cruel."

"Of course I am. Don't ever think that I'm not. We all cared for him. All of us. You're not the only one who was close to him."

"Obviously you realize that I know that! I'm not…not…" She can't decide what to say and Remus stares at her with a placidity that brings her back towards the edge of total fury.

"Implying!" she cries out, finding the word, "Implying that we didn't all care…" She sighs and then mutters underneath her breath, "All but Severus. Oh, Severus…"

It's funny that only earlier she was telling him how she couldn't bear to think of him. Still, Remus knows Minerva and he knows how she feels about her students. There were many, many of them and she holds a special wish for each of them. Perhaps for Severus it was simply a sense of belonging and just a bit of love. Remus sighs and looks down to the floor, suddenly wary of his thoughts. This is a compassion he is feeling. Compassion for the person who murdered the old man who so many loved.

"He was misguided," Remus says.

"No, not misguided. Ignorant and consumed with hate and pain and all the other feelings that haunt the creatures on this earth."

Remus nods quietly. This is all true. All true.

"Minerva. There are still people who need you," he tells her, trying to steer the conversation away from this.

"There are still people who need Albus!" she shoots back.

"Stop this, Minerva," Remus thunders at her. Again, she is reminded terribly of Dumbledore, who had charm and humor to make the rain stop crying. But he also could rage in an instant at lies and such. She had seen him do so when he had confronted Cornelius Fudge, former Prime Minister. "You will fulfill this path of Albus'. You must know that you can do this."

"It's too much to…to think about right now," she whispers, seating herself again. Remus follows her lead.

"Yes, I know."

"And _Harry_. Gods, what do I do? He won't tell me anything- not that I truly blame him- and…I can't help him."

"I know. He's been affected greatly too. And he's made promises, I'm sure of it."

"So what now?" she asks, seemingly desperate for some kind direction.

"Now you follow your instincts," he told her briefly before walking from the room, not going to interrupt any personal incidents which might follow their conversation.


End file.
